


What you sow can't be undone

by brittlestars



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 09:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlestars/pseuds/brittlestars
Summary: In these dark days, Matt only ever comes to Foggy when he's nearly dying. Foggy has some choice words for Matt's creator, and for Matt.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Daredevil Bingo





	What you sow can't be undone

Foggy isn’t the praying type. But Matt is, and Foggy supposes that has to matter for something.

Matt is close to bleeding out on Foggy's couch. He is pale, which isn’t new these days. But Foggy’s understanding of why _is_ new. The revelation, only a few weeks fresh, had shaken the bedrock that was their friendship, both of them reeling with anger and hurt. Now it has him on his knees with his elbows digging into the rough synthetic leather of the couch. 

The couch fabric soaks up the blood, rather than letting it run off and hit the floor. Foggy notices this because his heart won’t endure looking directly at Matt, not when he is trying to find the words for a desperate prayer he doesn’t know how to speak. 

The couch is an altar, and upon that altar lies the battered body of the man whom he thought he’d known. 

Foggy's prayer runs more along the lines of questions than demands:

...What was all this sacrifice for? Was it worth it? 

...Was it worth it to Matt? 

...Was it worth it for Hell’s Kitchen? 

Losing his closest friendship doesn’t feel worthwhile to Foggy, but then… what is real anymore? Is he putting too high a price on a thing that was fake all along? Believing falsely, idolizing Matt’s virtue and heart and brain when it was all just façade, and hollow. 

The questions spiral. God doesn't answer. 

Foggy shakes his head to himself. No. In daylight hours he and Matt (and God) may still be having that fight, but if Matt is willing to come to Foggy when injured, they must finally be easing toward some sort of a truce. 

This truce, if that's what their friendship had been reduced to, is very bloody. Tonight is the third night in two weeks Matt has stumbled through Foggy's window. Foggy had smothered his panic, helped Matt to the couch, and bandaged the wounds as best he could, all with minimal discussion. As Foggy continues kneeling beside the couch, he sees Matt's grasp on consciousness is thin, and fading. Matt doesn't spend the energy to reject the blanket Foggy drapes over him. 

The softest blanket Foggy owns is now stained with blood. 

"I don't want you to die." There, Foggy's finally said it. 

"I'm not dying." It's the voice of a skeleton, dry leaves rattling through old bones.

"Damn straight, not on my watch."

Matt's only response is a weak smile. He keeps his eyes closed. Red spots bloom in slow motion on his shroud.

Foggy wants to press his hand to the blood-soaked blanket, but he's afraid. "You could die tomorrow." 

"But not today."

"Matt, I don't want you to die alone in a gutter with a knife in your back tomorrow or any other day!"

"I don't have to be alone."

And Foggy - he can't. He can't be there for Matt every second of the day, as much as he wants to be. Sure, he can leave his apartment window unlocked. He can make sure to stay awake at home every evening instead of going out with Marci. He can keep the medkit well-stocked and Claire's number on speed dial. He can misdirect Karen. But he can't do what Matt can do, he can't run on the rooftops. What's more, he doesn't want to. Nobody should want to do what Matt does - it's suicide! 

Foggy's voice turns bitter. "Everyone dies alone." 

"Not if God is with them." 

"Isn't the old man Almighty suppose to be with everyone, everywhere?"

Matt swallows, turns his head toward the blank pane windows. "Doesn't sound like it to me."

Foggy clamps down on a retort. Super hearing doesn't fix the fact that he knows -- knows-- this is going to kill Matt one day. And that has Foggy absolutely terrified, fear transmuting into frustration in his voice. "And this is your hill to stand on? The unholy corners of Hell's Kitchen where even angels fear to tread?"

"I remember it more beautiful than that," Matt chides. 

"Just because you and I both love the neighborhood doesn't mean my couch has to be the altar where you sacrifice yourself to it."

"I suppose any place can be an altar," Matt concedes, "so long as you're making a solemn promise before God."

"No, altars are a place where innocents -- human and animal -- lose their lives without ever understanding why." 

Matt shrugs. "Not so different."

"A promise doesn't have to be a sacrifice! We can work on things together without destroying ourselves. I can't believe I'm still having to fight your noble bullshit, but then again I guess you never heard otherwise as a kid." Foggy pauses, striking upon a revelation. "I promise I won't leave you."

"A promise to stay with me is exactly my point: a sacrifice."

"Staying with you is not a sacrifice. You don't have to atone for having friends."

Matt makes even less eye contact than usual, grunting, "Soft."

"All people need relationships in their lives, Matt." Foggy reaches to rest a gentle hand on the back of Matt's wrist but pulls back, reconsidering. "God didn't build you soft; He built you human."

"Did He?" Matt's voice is pleading, the barest, keenest whisper. 

Foggy's heart squeezes. Fuck it, he can't hold back any longer. He reaches forward, trying to scoop Matt up, hold him chest to chest. It's awkward but Matt lets himself be held, limp and weeping. On his back, huge swathes of Matt's flesh are swollen hot, bruised dark.

Foggy wants to ask if it was worth it. Wants to ask about the price of a new rug, a new couch, a freshly re-broken bone. Wonders if the heart of Hell's Kitchen can be won at the expense of grinding a good man's soul with pain and isolation. Foggy wants to yell questions at Matt's God, to climb whatever ladder or steps it takes to barrel through the Pearly Gates and demand answers. Here is the sacrifice! Was it worth it? 

Instead, he closes his eyes and rocks them slowly on the couch.

"I'm here," Foggy whispers, "I'm here."

For tonight, at least, they promise each other: you are not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> For Daredevil bingo prompt "altar."


End file.
